Grudge
by Amiable Loner
Summary: The Winchester brothers are no strangers to the concept of revenge. But sometimes, the ones seeking revenge and how it's done surprises them. Set season 8 before the trials begin.


Hello all! It's been a while since I've done anything on this site. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always, I own nothing recognizable.

XXXXX

It smirked as it crept up behind the unsuspecting human. They were so stupid, living in ignorance to what was really in the shadows; though it really couldn't complain about that, it made them perfect prey. It was almost too easy. It longed for a challenge, but in order for that need to be met it had to make a challenge of its own. That was the reason for stalking these foolish and weak humans, they were the means to an end.

It reached out a hand to the man's unprotected back, relishing the moment, then plunged his hand deep into the muscled flesh. The man gasped and arched in a desperate bid for survival but his struggles soon ceased when its hand wrapped around the spinal cord. The man choked and gasped in agony but was unable to move. It let its victim dangle for a moment before deep lacerations began appearing on the man's body. The unfortunate man attempted to jerk away from the torment but the most movement he could muster was a feeble twitch. It smiled in perverse glee. The lacerations, while deep and painful in their own right, were ancient spells designed to cause increasing amounts of pain the longer they remained intact in the victim's flesh. A very effective and satisfying spell to the caster.

It stood there for a moment admiring the way the man dangled on its hand before ripping its hand out in a spray of blood. The body fell to the ground in an undignified sprawl. The man's face was frozen in a twisted and horrific mask of pain and terror. It was one of the most beautiful sights it had ever seen, save one. It licked the blood from its hand, savoring the flavor, then started on the second part of tonight's message. Soon it would have prey worthy of its cunning and strength. Soon the only real threat to its life would come and meet it in a battle to the death. Soon the Winchesters would die.

XXXX

"You the sheriff?" Dean asked as he and Sam entered the lobby of the apartment complex. A tall well-built man who appeared to be in his sixties turned to see who had spoken. His sharp brown eyes eyed the two younger men critically. The man's sharp, direct gaze and proud physical bearing briefly reminded Dean of his late father.

"Sheriff Rogers," he greeted coolly. "Who's asking?"

"Agents Smith and Wesson," Dean answered as he and Sam pulled out their credentials. The sheriff's thin lips twitched into a small grin and his eyes glinted briefly in amusement.

"Seriously?" his tone indicated he didn't buy it.

"Seriously," Dean affirmed with a wry grin. "The higher ups thought it'd be hilarious to make us partners." Sam shifted next to him but kept his mouth shut.

"I bet they did," Rogers grunted. "Guessin' nobody takes you two pretty boys seriously with names like those." The gleam of intelligence and something else shone in his eyes as he studied the Winchester brothers, searching for something that made both younger men squirm.

"Sheriff," Sam smoothly cut in. "There is a murder, plus five others, that need to be solved here," he gently chastised, raising his brows staring the sheriff down with large, earnest hazel eyes. Dean hid a smirk behind a cough; not many people could withstand those eyes. The sheriff relented, to their relief, and heaved a heavy sigh.

"You're right Agent Wesson," he said without a hint of humor. "I'm more frustrated now than I've ever been in forty years of doing this job." He met their eyes again and the brothers felt sympathy for the older man well up in them. His eyes were desperate and angry and a hint defensive. "I'm not about to fail the families of these boys so if you think I'm going to sit back and…"

"You're not letting anyone down sheriff," Sam responded gently, his eyes morphing into genuine concern and determination. "We're here to help you sir; think of us as a resource and a fresh set of eyes." They saw the moment Rogers gave in to Sam's gentle pleading and his need for help.

"I assume you fellas know the basics?" he asked, looking each brother in the eye.

"Today's victim, Jeremy Fields, makes six murdered young men," Dean recited. "All mutilated with a fatal wound to the back that severed their spinal cords." He resolutely pushed away a disturbingly familiar memory of a brother with a severed spinal cord and kneeling in the mud and rain. "All killed in their homes with no witnesses and no forensic evidence left behind. No connection between any of the victims other than age, sex, and general physical appearance and the extremely weird part about neighbors swearing they saw each victim the next day even though time of death suggests they'd been dead for hours."

"There haven't been any signs of forced entry," Sam continued. "No one on the security tapes that didn't belong and for victims one and four there is footage of the dead men leaving their apartments."

"That's pretty much it," Rogers affirmed. "But today's vic is a little different."

"How so?" Dean asked.

"You've seen the crime scene photos?" At their nods he went on. "One of my guys said the last two looked like a pattern had been drawn into the blood but it was so vague that we couldn't make heads or tails of it."

"I take it there's a definite pattern this time," Dean said darkly.

"Yep, still can't understand it but there's no doubt it's a pattern. Body's been removed but everything else is as we found it." The sheriff glanced over their shoulders for a second before meeting their eyes again. "Apartment 215, I'll meet you there in a minute. The kid's family just showed up." Dean and Sam watched him leave but turned away before they witnessed the family's devastation.

"You thinking shape shifter?" Sam asked as they made their way to the second floor.

"Won't know for sure until we see the security footage," Dean answered noncommittally. "Could be a daeva controlled by a witch. Could be a ghoul that's taken up fresh food instead of aged."

"Gross Dean," Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Monsters are gross man," Dean responded cheerfully.

"What do you think the pattern in the blood is?" Sam asked. "Something to scare the locals or part of something bigger?"

"If it's shifter or ghoul, then just a scare tactic," Dean mused. "If it's anything else then we got problems." Their conversation ended as they met up with a CSI tech leaving a room cordoned off by bright yellow crime scene tape. A flash of their badges had the tech nodding uninterestedly, telling them they had the room to themselves and with a muttered "I hope you didn't eat breakfast" was gone. The brothers met each other's eyes with raised brows.

"Must be bad," Sam said as he ducked under the tape.

"When isn't it?" Dean shot back as he too entered the room.

The first thing they noticed was the smell. The scent of blood was so powerful it sent their senses reeling. "Gah, poor guy must've lost just about every drop for it to smell this strong," Dean grumbled from behind his elbow. Sam led the way into the living room where the unfortunate man's body had been found. Dean was still trying to keep his breakfast where it belonged when Sam froze. "Sam?" When he didn't answer Dean moved to peer around him.

The first thing he noticed was Sam's horrified, ashen face. The second was the blood. There was a lot, as he'd expected, but the patterns it was in he'd only seen in one place once before and it was not somewhere he ever wanted to revisit. "Sam? Sammy? You ok over there?" Dean asked as he choked down his own fear and horror and focused on his brother. Sam still said nothing, features waxen and fixed in terror, throat working as if he was trying to keep something down. He must have lost the battle. In an instant he was in the kitchen over the sink heaving the contents of his stomach into the drain.

"Hey, easy man," Dean soothed as he made his way to his brother.

"Didn't think you agents would have such delicate stomachs," Rogers' slightly mocking voice came from the doorway. Thinking fast Dean came up with an explanation. He turned to meet the sheriff's somewhat smug look as his brother continued to heave.

"My partner and I were deep under cover a few years back," he began. "There's this highly secretive…domestic terrorist group we've been tracking for years and _(what else could he call a bunch of demons AND the freaking devil plus angels all gunning for the apocalypse?) _we've shut most of it down. But my partner was taken prisoner by what was left of the group _(that's what I'll call jumping into hell for this crap hole world) _for 18 months." Dean paused for a few seconds to gather his thoughts and emotions. Sheriff Rogers had quickly morphed from condescending to horrified and sympathetic. Sam continued to heave behind Dean. "What they did to him…I can't tell you but those markings? Only these guys could have made _(only the worst demons would know those symbols_)."

"Sorry," Rogers muttered. "Who is this group?"

"They don't have a name, they just stay under the radar and are responsible for numerous unsolved murders and disappearances," Dean answered as he placed a hand on Sam's shaking shoulder. The younger man seemed to be finished and was trying to restore his equilibrium. "They're even good at snatching people, doping them up with something that doesn't leave any traces and making them do some pretty bad things. Most of the time the victim doesn't survive _(how else do you explain possession without calling it possession?)."_

"Huh," Rogers grunted then turned to the living room. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Sam?" Dean whispered to his brother.

"I'll be fine Dean," Sam whispered back before rinsing his mouth with a handful of water. He grimaced as he did his best to wash the mess down the drain. "Sorry, it just hit me hard seeing those symbols." His eyes took on a haunted film. "They'd…carve me up…"

"Easy Sam, you're out. Stone number one, remember?" Dean soothed as he rubbed Sam's shoulder comfortingly. He was familiar with some of that pain himself but not, he thought, to the extent his little brother was. His other fist clenched unconsciously at his side. Even years later it still infuriated him that this was the thanks Sam received for saving the world.

"We saw a couple of pictures of the bodies," Sam spoke quietly and deliberately still leaning over the sink but staring straight ahead. "We could see they were mutilated but were these symbols carved into their bodies as well?" Dean noticed how hard Sam's large hands gripped the edges of the sink, as if that was all that was holding him up.

"Yes," Rogers replied just as quietly. "M.E. said they'd been done ante-mortem." The gruff sheriff visibly shuddered. "Poor kids had to have in been in agony while they died. We kept that out of the reports and away from the media; it's bad enough these boys were tortured and killed."

"Yeah," Dean agreed as he clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder before stepping away. "Were there any other strange things you guys might have noticed but not put in the reported or told the media?" Seeing the way the man's eyes narrowed in suspicion Dean quickly and smoothly continued, "Not judging you sheriff, or your guys. It's just that now we know who we're dealing with and we're more familiar with some of the more bizarre signatures of this group." Rogers' eyes studied him long and hard and for a moment Dean feared they'd soon be running from the law. Then those penetrating eyes released him and scanned the room.

"One rookie thought he smelled rotten eggs before he lost his lunch," he finally answered. "'Course this was a single guy who was truly a terrible housekeeper so no one thought anything of it." Sam finally composed himself and now stood shoulder to shoulder with Dean, listening attentively. Those piercing eyes landed on the brothers again. "M.E. said something strange though. The wound to the spine wasn't done with any weapon. It looked as if someone had reached in and grabbed hold of the spine and then ripped it out with their hand. Besides being physically impossible for a human there was no evidence of any fibers or foreign debris that would indicate something plunging into the body. No entry wound, just one huge exit wound done with brute strength. What do you make of that?"

Sam and Dean exchanged subtle, but nervous, glances. This sheriff was too sharp to fall for their usual fronts and they truly had nothing to tell him. Rogers snorted. "You can stop pretending; you aren't agents any more than I'm the president. I should arrest you but I've seen a few things over the years that I can't explain and have had a few strange drifters stop impossible murders so I don't really care who you are if you can make this nightmare end."

The Winchesters looked at each other for a moment, exchanged glances then turned back to Rogers. "You're right, we're not agents," Sam answered. "But we can make this stop. If we can't then others like us will. Somehow, it will stop." Rogers bowed his head and nodded as if coming to a decision.

"Alright, I'll lend a hand where I can and I can help my men turn a blind eye to what you're doing but whatever you guys do, you'd better do it fast. Whoever, _whatever,_ this is isn't slowing down. I don't want to find another crime scene like this and have to tell a grieving family they can't even see their son or brother because he's been ripped to shreds."

XXXX

"That was too close," Dean whistled as the two got into the Impala.

"Yeah," Sam huffed in agreement. "But at least we won't have to worry about the cops for this one."  
"For once," Dean muttered as he started the engine. "Where to? Morgue or motel?"

"Motel," Sam said firmly. "Rogers is emailing me photos of the victims' bodies. There isn't much we can learn from them anyway." Dean noticed the haunted look in his brother's eyes but said nothing as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the tragic scene. Neither brother noticed the way a nondescript jogger watched them leave.

XXXX

"So, local weather confirms it," Sam announced as he looked up from his laptop to catch his brother's eye. "Definite demon activity since the time of the first murder."

"You ok?" Dean asked as he rose and made his way to where his brother was seated. Sam shot him a pointed look.

"Are you?" he countered with a challenging tilt of his head. Dean shrugged.

"Not really but there's not much to do besides gank this son of a bitch. So we got a demon or demons but what about the dead guys walking around? Ghoul or shifter?" Dean asked as he leaned over Sam's shoulder to see the computer screen.

"Rogers emailed to security cam footage," Sam said as he opened an email attachment. The brothers watched potential suspects move across the screen until Dean cried, "There!" Sam paused the video to see the glowing eyes of a shape shifter peering up at them through the camera. Both felt a chill down their spines; the look was deliberate and challenging to those who knew what to look for.

"That son of a bitch is taunting us," Dean growled.

"What's going on here?" Sam puzzled aloud. "We've got a demon and a shifter seemingly working together to kill young men with no apparent gain." Dean studied the screen a bit more before his eyes wandered to the files of the victims. Realization hit him and he couldn't stop the hand that landed gently on Sam's back. "Dean?"

"There's a gain alright," Dean croaked. "Us. They, it, wanted us here."

"Dean," Sam began to protest but the elder continued.

"Think about it Sam: The symbols only those who've been to the worst parts of hell would recognize, the camera, even the victims could be us, and," Dean paused to swallow down emotion as his hand fell over the place where Sam's back was still scarred to this day. "The killing wound. How can you say this isn't about us, more specifically you? The victims? All tall, brown haired, brown eyed men in their late twenties to early thirties."

"A lot of demons know our history Dean," Sam interjected quietly. "And they'd all be willing to take a shot at us if they thought they'd pull it off. It, they, could just be after hunters." Something in his voice said he didn't really believe that.

"Maybe, but this case is only a day's drive away from the bunker and not all demons are familiar with those symbols. There is one bad mother after us and he really doesn't like you."

"So we've got a demon who is out for our heads and hates me even more than usual with a shape shifter on the payroll? How does that work out?"

"Don't know, maybe it gets its jollies walking around as dead guys?" Dean suggested. "You got an idea of where they might be hiding?"

"Give me a minute and I'll have a few ideas."

XXXX

"Is there some rule in the demon handbook to hang out in abandoned buildings for casting spells or general evil scheming?" Dean groused as they pulled up a block away from an old warehouse that had definitely seen better days.

"'General evil scheming'?" Sam parroted incredulously.

"You got anything better?" Dean challenged with a smirk. Sam grinned as he shook his head as they exited the car. The two made their way to the trunk where they armed themselves with their Maglites, flasks of holy water, canisters of salt, handguns loaded with silver rounds, a silver knife, and sawed-off shotguns with additional rounds tucked into their pockets. Dean carried the demon killing knife while Sam took an angel blade. They exchanged a glance and made their way to the crumbling building.

The sun had just finished slipping beneath the horizon as the Winchester brothers crept into the condemned warehouse. In truth it was an ideal location for anyone wanting to conduct any activities that would attract far too much attention. It took up nearly the entire block and all the buildings surrounding it were another block away and mostly vacant. Any tenets would be the kind to ignore whatever may be happening in an old abandoned building.

The doors were unsecured, the chain that once held the doors shut long ago severed by teenagers looking for trouble or junkies seeking a hit. It was the fresh signs of activity that caught their attention; dust disturbed from the opening and closing of the heavy door and clear footprints leading in and out. "Dean," Sam whispered. Once he had his brother's attention he motioned to the footprints; while many, there was only one set. Dean met Sam's eyes and conveyed his confusion. Sam began to shake his head when a flicker from their flashlights caught his attention. He quickly raised his light to see behind his brother when he saw a tiny flicker of movement.

"DEAN, DOWN!" he warned as his light illuminated the figure of a man with glowing eyes. Dean turned as he dropped but the shape shifter was faster. He grabbed Dean by the lapels and flung him towards the nearest wall. Before the creature had finished its throw Sam was already firing into its chest. To his surprise the shifter only growled in frustration as it staggered back by the force of the bullets.

Sam was even more surprised when he found himself flying through the air without the shifter ever touching him. He landed in a sprawl on his back and thought, _The demon! _The shifter regained its balance and began to stalk towards him.

"Hey!" Dean bellowed. The shifter turned to receive a chest full of silver bullets courtesy of Dean Winchester. Dean swore as the shifter merely stumbled under the barrage then turned to sneer at him. _What kind of shape shifter is this?!_ He couldn't help the abject shock that must have flashed across his face as the shifter's eyes turned the telltale black of demonic possession. _Balls! _Was the only coherent thought he could form for a good five seconds. Then demon smirked at him and bolted away down a shadowy hallway. Dean shook off his stupor and quickly crossed to where his brother was peeling himself off the floor. "You ok?" he demanded.

"Yeah," Sam panted. "Just had the wind knocked out of me." He turned large, confused eyes up to his brother. "What happened?"

"Short version: shifter's possessed by our demon and apparently has an axe to grind against us. He went that way," Dean answered with a jerk of his head in the direction the demon took. Sam blinked the confusion and surprise away as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Huh, didn't even consider that," he mused aloud as he retrieved his fallen flashlight and shotgun.

"Puzzle it out and archive it later," Dean growled. "We got a demon to gank." Sam made his way back to Dean's side and the two stealthily made their way down the darkened hallway.

"Do you think the knife will kill the shifter too?" Sam asked.

"Does it matter? The shifter's probably already dead. Besides, if it isn't now, it's got a chest full of silver. And if that still doesn't work I'll stab it in the heart," Dean answered. "Two monsters for the price of one."

"You enjoy playing with knives way too much," Sam grumbled. Dean ignored that remark though he was tempted to remind his little brother which one of them excelled at throwing knives when they were kids.

"Hey," Dean murmured as his eyes picked up fresh evidence of someone passing through a door to their left. Sam met his eyes and nodded, shotgun at the ready. Dean opened the door while Sam quickly and efficiently scanned the entrance. Seeing nothing, he motioned his brother forward. Together they entered the room that had at one time must have served as a storage space. Dusty, abandoned equipment lined the walls. _Where is he?_ Dean wondered as his steps slowed. Beside him Sam let out a choked cry. Whirling around Dean cried, "Sam!" as the younger man dropped to his knees.

Sam's body arched in agony, his breath catching in his throat. Dean knelt next to him, unsure of what to do to stop his brother's torment. He held Sam's shoulders and tried to catch his eyes. "Sammy!" Sam managed to latch a shaking hand onto Dean's jacket and gasp one word:

"Jake."

Pausing for a moment, Dean tried to understand what his brother had figured out. The answer hit him a second later, hard enough to actually make him sway before his brother. Jake. Jake Talley. The man who had fatally stabbed Sam in the back at Cold Oak and who Sam later killed. Dean visibly fought to push back the visceral memories of kneeling in the cold mud with his brother's corpse.

"Sam," Dean growled as he wrapped his hands around Sam's pale face, forcing him to meet his desperate green eyes. "Look at me Sam, you're going to be fine. Tell me what's going on," he pleaded. Once again he shoved similar memories to the back of his mind, hoping to never remember.

"Can't…move…pain," Sam choked. His lips minutely twitched. "Not…dying…."

"Not funny," Dean huffed.

"Not dying yet anyway," a familiar voice taunted from somewhere behind Sam. Dean growled low in his throat as he moved his hands back to Sam's shoulders to better support his wavering brother. He forced out a dark laugh.

"Should have known it was you from the start," Dean called out. "Back stabbing cowards like you don't change their ways even in death. Ooof!" he gasped as Sam suddenly went slack into his chest. "Sam?" Dean whispered frantically. Sam's dark head nodded against his chest. Dean exhaled a little easier as he wrapped his arms protectively around his brother. Jake still hadn't reappeared and it made him nervous.

"Not surprised you ended up in hell," Dean continued as he slowly inched his hand to where he knew Sam had the angel blade hidden. "Just surprised you were smart enough to figure out how to get out and actually possess someone, even if it is a bottom feeder like a shape shifter." He almost had his hand on the hilt of the blade when Dean felt his body thrown backwards. _Son of bitch! I was so close!_ The elder Winchester came to a painful stop against a dusty, steel shelving unit that still remained sturdy to his back's chagrin.

Dean tried to pull himself together in order to get to Sam who he could see struggling to rise but found himself slammed against the shelves once again. This time ropes snaked around his arms and pulled them harshly around one of the unit's legs. Jake suddenly appeared before him, causing the hunter to jerk in surprise. The former soldier looked the same he did all those years ago except he was wearing casual jeans and T-shirt instead of his uniform. Dean studied the smug demon and decided to get in one more shot. "Wouldn't have pegged you for being nostalgic."

"Careful Winchester, wouldn't want to burst a blood vessel trying to use big words," Jake mocked as he landed a kick to Dean's chest. The hunter jerked as he tried to curl over the injury. A brutal kick to the head knocked Dean out cold. Jake nodded in approval before turning back to Sam. The younger of the two had made it back to his feet though his body still trembled from the effects of the previous attack. The demon casually strolled toward Sam, shaking his head and making disapproving sounds.

"Tsk, tsk Sam, I thought you would have gotten a little tougher since we last met," Jake scolded as he came to a stop in front of the shaking hunter. "You remember right? The night you killed me!" The demon's vicious punch sent Sam sprawling to the floor. Sam gasped out a faint laugh.

"Well, you killed me first," he panted as he pushed himself upright again. Jake knelt before Sam and jerked his head up by his long hair.

"Should have killed the old man and your idiot brother too," the demon snarled. He moved to strike Sam again but this time the hunter was ready. One hand had slipped into his jacket and found his flask of holy water. While Jake talked he blindly removed the cap and withdrew the flask. As Jake made his move, Sam made his. The demon screeched as he received a face full of holy water, releasing his hold on Sam's hair. Sam lurched to his knees and continued to fling the blessed water on the monster. Jake screamed and thrashed blindly as he tried to evade the attack.

"All those men, they were to just get us here," Sam spat. "Too afraid to challenge us openly?" He flung the last of the water and reached for his blade but found himself flying through the air until he slammed into the wall. His body remained pinned despite his struggles.

"Their blood is on your hands," Jake hissed as he shook off the rest of the holy water. "If you and your brother hadn't been so dense you would have found me sooner. Besides," he smirked as he made his way to the trapped hunter. "That look you and your brother get when another meat suit dies? Priceless. Didn't hurt that it was fun either." Sam renewed his struggles to free himself as the demon neared. A groan from Dean caught both of their attention.

"Leave him alone!" Sam snarled as he saw Jake's eyes travel to his brother.

"Or what? You'll talk me to death?" Jake sneered. He considered Sam for a minute before a sadistic smile broke out across his features as his eyes turned inky black. "You and your dad had the honors of watching someone you love bleed and burn above your heads; how do you think Dean will feel when he wakes up and sees you pinned to the ceiling and bleeding onto his face?" Jake couldn't describe the pleasure he felt as he watched Sam's face drain of color. The begging that followed was even sweeter.

"Don't! Do whatever you want to me but don't do that to him! Please!" Sam didn't care if he was begging; he'd do that and more if it meant sparing Dean from that particular nightmare. Jake chuckled as he forced Sam up the wall.

"Don't worry, I won't burn you up there. I don't want you dying that fast." Sam struggled fruitlessly as he was dragged up the wall and across the ceiling until he came to a stop above his stirring brother. A strangled cry broke free of his lips as a searing pain slowly moved across his abdomen. He panted as he felt his own blood drip from his body and land on and around Dean.

The cry and the feeling of something hitting him in the face finally brought Dean back to the waking world. "Sam?" he weakly called out as he pried open his heavy eyelids. The something hit him in the face again so he tilted his head up to see what was irritating him. The sight that met his eyes was one of his worst nightmares come to life. Sam, his geeky little brother, was pinned to the ceiling ten feet above his head, blood from his slashed abdomen dripped onto his horrified face. Sam's face was creased in pain and…apology? "Sam! SAM!" he screamed despite the pain it caused him. He expected flames to erupt any second now. Laughter brought his attention to the demon Jake watching a few feet away.

"That couldn't have been more perfect!" the demon cackled.

"Let him down you bastard!" Dean demanded.

"How are YOU going to make me Winchester?" Jake asked, eyes alight with amusement. "Don't worry, I'm not done hurting your brother yet." With that, Sam dropped like a stone. Dean winced as the younger man landed flat on his front, completely unable to even attempt to break his fall.

"Sam! Sammy! Sam, answer me!" Dean called even as his body curled in pain around his injured chest. Sam's back shuddered as he tried to refill his abused lungs with air. Jake reappeared before Sam, blocking Dean's line of sight. The demon knelt and reached out a hand to Sam. Dean tried vainly to free himself, to protect Sam, but he was well and truly bound.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to rip you apart with my own hands," Jake ranted as he dragged Sam to his knees by his hair. Sam's glazed eyes focused on the demon.

"For what?" he gasped as he spat out a mouthful of blood. "For sending you where you belong? I was going to let you live." A punch to his already battered face sent Sam reeling once again.

"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted as he frantically rubbed his bonds against any surface he could find. Luck was against him, everything was smooth. Jake ignored him.

"I thought I'd never get this chance when I learned the Plan down in the Pit. Ava says 'hi' by the way," Jake continued as he dragged razor sharp nails down Sam's cheek, invoking a sharp grunt of pain.

"Get away from him!" Dean roared. Jake continued to ignore his shouting.

"I nearly destroyed myself to watch what was happening in the Cage but it was worth it. It was even better when I saw you get out. I finally had my chance."

"Like…hearing yourself….talk, don't you?" Sam spat out around a mouthful of blood. Jake's next punch sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Why a shape shifter?" Dean demanded as he tried to catch Sam's eye. "Can't be for your looks." Jake smiled condescendingly at the older hunter.

"If you really must know, convenience. Saves me the trouble of finding a new meat suit every time I rip some unsuspecting idiot to pieces." To Dean's amazement Jake's form rippled like water before morphing into the familiar visage of John Winchester. "I thought it might be fun ripping you apart looking like your dear old dad." His form changed again into Bobby's. "Or maybe I could rip out your intestines looking like this redneck drunk." Jake took a menacing step forward as he changed again into Lisa. "Or maybe I could crush your beating heart in my hand looking like the girl you left behind." Dean felt his chest tighten in pain and fury as Jake twisted Lisa's beautiful features into a sneer of hatred. The demon changed again to look like Jessica. "Or I could burn Sam over there looking like the girl he got killed. Or maybe," Dean watched him change again until he was looking a mirror image of himself. "I could strangle the life out of your little brother looking like you."

"You're not very original," Sam huffed as he pushed himself up on one elbow. His dark angry eyes bored into Jake. "I had a shape shifter and Lucifer pull that trick. It gets old once you've seen it." Dean tried to make eye contact with Sam as Jake turned and delivered a punishing kick to Sam's vulnerable abdomen. Sam's entire body lifted off the floor with the force of the attack.

"Touch him again and I'll make your nightmares seem like a happy place you son of a bitch!" Dean bellowed as he writhed against his bonds. If he could move just so, he could reach the demon killing knife…

Sam's tiny head shake made him pause for a heartbeat. He looked terrible but the younger Winchester was far from beaten. Dean acknowledged his plan just as Jake changed back into his own form and knelt beside Sam. He wrapped his hand in Sam's long hair and lifted the hunter to his knees. Sam weakly wrapped his arms around his middle, discreetly moving his right hand inward.

He had one chance at this…

"Don't worry Dean, I'll get you when I'm done with Sam," Jake growled as he raised his hand for another attack. Sam flung his right arm out, angel blade in hand, eyes burning with anger and determination. He aimed a stab for Jake's chest but the demon lurched back at the last second. Instead, a long, deep furrow sparking red lightning erupted across the demon's upper chest. Jake flung Sam to the ground and staggered to his feet and away. Sam pushed himself up to his knees, knife outstretched before him. Jake writhed in agony but did not seem to be dying just yet.

"You!" he spat even as he doubled over in pain. He spared the brothers one last glance before disappearing. Sam waited a few more heartbeats before he slumped to the floor.

"SAM!" Dean cried as he pulled against his ropes. Sam raised his head and sent his brother a weak smile. His face was a bloody mess from a gash along his forehead, a broken nose, the gashes on his cheek and a split lip.

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, you'd better try again," Dean said even as he relaxed a little.

"Not really," Sam admitted as he started dragging himself forward. "Not dying though." It was only a few feet between him and Dean but the gap felt like a mile. "I'll cut you loose and then you can take care of Jake."

"I'll enjoy stabbing him," Dean agreed as Sam came to a stop against his thigh. The elder grimaced as he took in the younger's battered features. "You look like crap." Sam huffed an indignant breath but didn't argue. It was true. Besides the damage to his face there was the slash across his stomach and who knew how many internal organs had been damaged in his fall or from Jake's kick. Dean was sure Sam had a concussion and knew for certain there was more blood outside of his brother's body than he was comfortable with. His pulse skyrocketed when Sam spat out a mouthful of blood. "Sam?!"

"Busted open my lip and bit my tongue," Sam rasped as he clumsily cut through the ropes binding his brother to the shelving unit. "This job sucks," he groaned.

"No argument from me little brother," Dean laughed as he felt his hands come free. "You just…SAM!" His warning came too late as Jake, bloody and furious, reappeared behind Sam. Sam tried to finish him off with his blade but he was too exhausted. Jake caught his arm and twisted. The hunter dropped the blade with a cry of pain. The demon kicked the blade away with a clatter.

"One wrong move Dean and I'll break his neck," Jake hissed as he wrapped his other hand around Sam's throat. "I'm done playing with you two…ARGH!" Jake howled as Sam, in a last ditch attempt, opened a salt round and shoved into the demon's mouth. Sam dropped to the ground with a thump as Jake clawed at his mouth in agony. Dean wasted no time in standing, Ruby's knife in hand, and driving the blade deep into Jake's throat. Red lightning sparked through the demon's body before the evil soul was forever destroyed.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to do that," Dean rasped as he let the body drop unceremoniously to the floor. He sank down gracelessly next to his brother and pulled Sam's shaking shoulders onto his lap.

"Never do let go of a grudge, do you?" Sam whispered. Dean looked down at him and managed a small, sincere grin.

"Not about the important things Sammy." He looked at his battered brother, the warehouse, and his own aching body. "Think I'll take the sheriff up on his offer of help." He gingerly removed his phone from his pocket and dialed the local police station. "Hey sheriff," he greeted tiredly. His adrenaline high was quickly deserting him. "Could you do us a favor?"

XXXXXXXX

Two days later Sheriff Rogers was seeing the Winchester brothers off at their motel. "I want to thank you guys again," he said as he shook each of their hands. "I don't want the details of what happened but thank you for ending this. I just wish I had something more to give the families."

"You can tell them it's over," Dean answered. "The killer's dead and won't ever be coming back." Rogers nodded. A crooked grin curled his lips.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I never see you two around here again. At least not when I've got bodies dropping like flies." The brothers grinned.

"This is nicer than what we usually get when we leave town," Sam laughed. "I think the last place drove us out with pitchforks and tar."

"He's not kidding," Dean intoned at the sheriff's incredulous face. "I hate small towns."

"Take care of yourselves boys," Rogers ordered. "You sure you don't want to stay another couple days? The doctors weren't too happy with you guys leaving."

"We're mostly just battered and bruised," Dean answered with a shrug. "Sam won't be getting any dates in the near future but that's nothing new anyway." He cheerfully ignored the glare sent his way.

"We really need to be going," Sam went on. "We aren't that far away. We've dealt with worse." Rogers didn't doubt that for a minute. It was probably the most truthful statement he'd heard from either man.

"Alright then, stay safe boys," Rogers said as he departed. The brothers watched his squad car pull away and disappear down the road.

"Ready to go?" Dean asked as he pulled out his keys.

"Yeah," Sam answered as he made his way slowly to the passenger side. He was looking forward to getting back to the bunker and sleeping for a day.

"I am not leaving my awesome bed for a week," Dean muttered as he sank into the driver's seat. "This job sucked."

"Yeah, it did," Sam agreed distractedly as Dean started the engine.

"Something bothering you?"

"How many other loose ends are out there looking for revenge?" Sam blurted as he turned earnest eyes onto his brother. "How many people are going to get hurt because of us?"

"We won't let that happen," Dean answered firmly. "We tie up any loose ends from now on and once Kevin tells us how, we'll lock away all those demons who want a piece of us for good. We'll deal with anything else. No one else dies because of us Sam. It's over." Conversation done, Dean put the car in gear and pulled away from the motel and turned toward the bunker. Sam continued to stare pensively out the window.

Was it really ever over?

XXXXX

End.

Just in case anyone disagrees with the demon possessing a shapeshifter thing, remember the yellow eyed demon possessed Tessa the Reaper to save Dean's life so call it creative license. :)


End file.
